Liz was all tired and grumpy this morning because (as she whined to Dad) “my room is cold, and my blankets are warm!” We finally got ready and I was loading up my backpack. Peach walked out of my room, then I walked out with my backpack open, and of course this was the obvious conclusion:
Liz: :laughing hysterically: DID YOU TRY TO PUT PEACH IN YOUR BACKPACK?! :more laughing:
me: Um… no. :halfheartedly chased Peach around with my backpack, for the lulz:
Liz: :has kittens:
Liz, after calming down: Maybe if you had a fatter backpack.
me: Huh?
Liz: Well, if you had a more fatter backpack, you could put Bakemono in it!
me: …sure. :LOL!:

Liz spends part of her time at my house and part of her time at Dad’s house. There are pets at each house. All are fixed and all are rescues.

My pets:

Missy – female terrier mutt of some sort

Nushi – female cat

Billie – female cat

Dad’s pets:

Bakemono – male cat

Senor Peaches – male cat, obvs

Whispurr – female cat

Bakemono and Peach do not like each other. To communicate their dislike for each other and attempt to occupy each other’s territory, they spray. Liz says, “Whispurr doesn’t pee on the floor or the walls, because she’s a girl, and she thinks that’s disgusting. And whispurr is a smart kitty but Bakemono sometimes thinks derp, and Peacho always thinks derp derp derp!”

The other day, Twin Bro came over for coffee. He stayed for about an hour, Liz watched Sesame Street, we talked about “boring grownup things,” Twin Bro mentioned something stupid that Bakemono and Peach had done, and we had a nice and mellow time. Then he left. Liz said, “Oh, good. Now we’re all girls, so everything can be quiet and peace.”

(I really wonder what version of reality she’s seeing…the terrierist destroys things on a regular basis, every creature in the house raises her voice at least once a day, there’s plenty of running and horseplay…our home is more mosh pit than tea party most of the time)

“MOM! We have to go there and watch the parade at there, outside! It’s in New York City. That’s where Sesame Street is! I will go there and ride on a float.”

But that wasn’t enough:

“Mom, maybe I could live at New York City. I could have an apartment with fabulous girlfriends in it, and I could watch the parade at my apartment or I could be on the Sesame Street float.” I asked her what her job would be, since living in NYC is expensive. “I could just be on TV all the time.”

~

Punkin Chunkin:

I left the following message on Dad’s facebook wall: Your daughter is designing Punkin Chunkin machines, including one so big that the operator must take an elevator to the top of the machine to load it. She thinks you’ll build it, Twin Bro will “do the science and the maf,” and I will keep everyone safe. ^_^

(Dad is the type of guy who thinks “No User Serviceable Parts Inside” means “There is fun stuff for me to play with in here!”)

She kept talking about “flying dust” for the pumpkins. It took a little bit of ferreting out, but once she described putting the flying dust in the cannon to make the pumpkin go, I figured out that she was talking about gunpowder. “Oh, that’s okay, Mom. You’ll be there to keep everyone safe.”

~

Thanksgiving dinner itself, on our national bird:

Aunt: Did you know that our founding fathers almost made the wild turkey our national bird, instead of the bald eagle?

Liz: NO WAY.

Aunt: What do you think of that? Would you want a turkey as our national bird?

Liz: I don’t know.

Aunt: Well, what do you think of the bald eagle?

Liz: I don’t know, I’ve never tried it before.

~

Black Friday:

Mom: Can you believe that?! There are people camping outside in tents, just so they can go to that store in the middle of the night and push and shove each other around to buy things they don’t need because they’re getting a deal.

Liz: Oh, yeah, Mom. We should do that so we could buy lots of things and get deals.

~

We did NOT go shopping. We went to the science museum instead. I took Liz to see the gems and minerals, which has become the Hall of Sparkly Things That Liz Really Really Wants.

“MOM!! Did you see all that gold? I want ALL OF IT. And the diamonds, and the amethysts because they’re purple and I like purple now, and the silver, and the crystals…Mom, you should write down that I want all that gold for Christmas.”

~

Twin Bro is applying to medical school and I’m helping him proofread his application essays:

Liz: What are you doing?

Mom: I’m helping Twin Bro with his medical school application. He’ll be telling medical schools why they should teach him how to be a doctor, so his answers need to be written well, with no mistakes.

Liz: MOM. Why isn’t he going to be a scientist?

Mom: Well, because he likes people. He likes to be nice to people and help them. He wants to figure out why they’re sick and make them feel better and be healthy.

Liz: Oh, okay. Well, he should work at a kids doctor, so he could be nice to kids.

(A friend of mine asked me some questions about Liz’s language development last year, when Liz had just turned three. This is what I wrote back. –Mom)

I have been reinforcing language with Liz ever since she was a baby. I knew it would be frustrating to deal with a baby who couldn’t articulate what she wanted, so I consciously decided that she needs to learn language ASAP.

I started talking to her once I got enough sleep to string together a coherent sentence. When she was three months old, I went back to work. I worked overnight, and would get home as she was waking up. I’d talk to her as I was feeding her: “Hi, Miss Elizabeth! Did you have a good night? Did you sleep? I hope so! I worked all night. I told the ambulances where to go. My friend was nice to me, she gave me a hug! I know YOU like hugs, you’re a snuggly baby.” …and so on.

We’ve been reading to Liz since the day she was born. I remember Dad reading Dr. Seuss books to Liz in the hospital. When one of us was up with her during the day, and she was in the mood to be awake but we were in the mood to read our own books or magazines, we’d read aloud to her from those. She’s heard bits and pieces of the Harry Potter series, a little bit of Noam Chomsky, and a few articles about swimsuit shopping and makeup (don’t judge!).

I’ve always pointed things out to Liz. I’m sure I looked silly walking through the grocery store, pushing a cart with a car seat in it, talking about yummy green broccoli and big, heavy jugs of milk. I talked to her in a high, animated tone of voice, but didn’t dumb down any of the words I used.

I am SO glad that Liz can pronounce most words now. When she was about 18 months old, we were watching a DVD. She kept saying, “Mushum. Mushum.” I told her I didn’t understand her. She started pointing at the TV. “Mushum! Muh shum!” I still didn’t get it. She stomped up to the TV and started yelling at it and making the sign for “more”. “MUH SHUM! WANT SHUM! SHUM!” Finally, I realized that Barney was on, and she was telling me that she’d rather watch Fireman Sam again.

She used to call every black cat a “Billie” and every tabby cat a “Moe,” after the black cat and the tabby cat at home.

Since she’s been going to daycare, she’s been picking up all kinds of new stuff. She calls her pacifier a “binky” because that’s what her friend L calls it. She used to call her Crocs “clogs” because that’s what Grandma M taught her, but since she’s been going to daycare, they’re “Crocs.”

She went for a walk with Twin Bro around Christmas (she was about 2 1/2). Twin Bro lives in a neighborhood with old houses, some of which have lions out front. Some of the lions had bows on them for Christmas. Liz called the plain lions “lions,” but the ones with bows were “Christmas dogs.” She told Twin Bro, “Santa comes and brings us presents. The presents has bows on them…just like little dogs has!”

Now she’s learning grammar, and is in that stage where she knows the rules, but not the exceptions. So she’ll say things like “runned” or “swimmed” instead of “ran” or “swam.” She’ll tell me, “I want to go to home” (or “I want to go to [our address]” if she thinks she needs to emphasize), or “I want to stay at here.”

She’s also learning expressions. The other night, she told Dad, “I shouldn’t worry about taking a bath tonight.”

Friday was my birthday. It was also Twin Bro’s birthday, of course, which meant that I’d be buying him a present. He’s notoriously hard to shop for, but he did mention needing some nice clothes.

I asked Liz for her input and got gems like these:

“Maybe you could buy his clothes at Target. Or you could buy them at IKEA if they sell clothes for grown-ups.”

“He needs to wear a blue shirt because blue is his favorite color. And he needs a tie that’s red and white striped like a candy cane, only it’s made out of clothing and it’s shaped like a tie! And he needs jeans and sneakers, too.”

After that comment, we realized that it would probably be better if a well-dressed gentleman gave us suggestions. I asked her if she knew anyone who could help:

“THE WIGGLES! They have nice clothes! We could ask the Wiggles what to buy! And since Jeff is small, then he could tell us where to buy small clothes. … But they wear the same Wiggles clothes all the time and maybe they don’t know where to buy normal clothes. HEY!! Maybe some of them have wifes! Their wifes could tell us where to buy clothes!”

“Maybe we could buy a magazine with mans doing a fashion show.”

“If you see a man with good clothes, you could say, ‘Awww! I like your clothes, they’re so cute! Where did you buyed them?’ And then he would tell you.”

Finally, after a few frustrating stops at department stores, I vented my frustrations to Liz. Not only did I not know how I wanted the clothes to look, I didn’t know Twin Bro’s exact size (with men’s dress clothes, “Small” apparently doesn’t cut it).

Liz said, “Well, then, you have to say ‘Sorry I didn’t buyed you a present, but I don’t know what size clothing you wear. So could I please measure you and then buy you some clothing later? I have a tape measure at my house in my toolbox.’ And then he would say thank you.”

So, that’s pretty much what I’m doing. Twin Bro gets new clothes after I take his measurements, and he gets the final say on what he’ll be wearing.